Roll with the Wind
by Pleasing.the.Yaoi.Gods
Summary: Alfred Jones is an orphaned young man just trying to get the ground ready to plant his wheat, but as he is trying to keep up his normal life a foreinger on the run from bad guys shows up needing his help. Alfred/Arthur and a little Francis/Matthew.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: my first long Hetalia fic…well by long I mean more than a few silly chapters. Anywho I was inspired by a picture of America and England kissing in the hay and this popped into my head. Also the pairings include: Arthur/Alfred, Mathew/Francis, and mentions of Arthur/Francis but only mentions. So please enjoy.

It was a hard day on the farm, the sun had been harsh and the ground tough, but Alfred Jones had not relented and had worked long and hard all day long. At seventeen and all alone he knew that he could not take any leisure time if he wanted to make sure that his seeds were planted before all of the leaves fell from his large oak tree, and so since after the harvest from last season had been all sold he had begun to get the ground ready for the new seeds.

The warm sun was beginning to set and Alfred knew that it would get chilly soon and so he should probably go inside. The blonde looked up and wiped his brow with his shirt that he had taken off sometime in the afternoon. His tan skin glistened from a hard day of work but his bright blue eyes looked affectionately upon his small field. It was not as large as some of the other farms around those parts, but Alfred was proud of it. His father had bought it when he was twenty, bringing his young wife and baby son so that they could have a life. Now that both his Ma and pa were dead it was Alfred's job to make sure that his father's dreams did not die with him, and that Jones' Wheat would still be the best in the county.

Alfred led his horse, Honey, and the plow away from the fields and to the barn. There he put Honey in her stall and after putting some fresh hay in with her and getting her some cold water he gave her nose an affectionate pat. Once she was settled he dragged the plow the rest of the way into the barn. Once the barn was all locked up for the night Alfred headed back to his modest home. His family home was not very large but it was a spacious kitchen where his ma used to always be baking. The house also had two bedrooms, one that his parents used to use and another that was his unless his uncle was visiting and then Alfred slept on the couch in the living room.

Inside Alfred made himself some beans from a tin and some ham. He looked at his cupboards with a sigh; he would have to go into town soon to get some more food. As he sat down, eating he felt the familiar pang of sadness at seeing his ma and pa's empty seats. It had only been a few months since he had buried his parents in the town cemetery, but their loss still plagued him. Every morning he missed waking up to the smell of hotcakes and blueberry jam, fresh and waiting for him and Pa. He did not like being in the house very much and was glad to have work, but he was worried about what he was going to do once winter blew in. he wasn't too far from the town, but he knew that a snow storm could block him from going into towns and that he would probably be spending some time alone in the house.

Alfred shook his head, he couldn't think about such things, he had to keep his spirits up otherwise his crop would be no good, it was an old saying but he believed it as much as any other self-respecting farmer knew that if you planted with a heavy heart then your crop would rot. It was hard, though, for the young man to keep his thoughts from becoming sad when he had nothing to distract him. His ma and pa used to playfully tease him about it ever since when he was seven he had spent nearly three months in morning for the death of their dog Banjo.

Alfred took another bit of beans of pork when a thought hit him. What if when he was in town next Sunday for church he could get himself a dog. Company was what he needed and a dog was a wonderful remedy for that. This thought lightening his mood Alfred was able to finish his dinner with a smile and once he'd cleaned up he went into the living to read a bit. His mother had been very adamant that he have a proper education, she said that he never knew when it would come in handy despite the fact that they lived in a small town where the only educated people were Pastor Richardson and the school master, Todd Garnish. His mother had come from the city though and had even gone to a private school before meeting Alfred's Pa and running away because her father did not approve of the match, and though she had left that life behind she would not have her son becoming another uneducated country bum.

After lighting the lamp Alfred sat down in his ma's old chair by the window and began to read one of the books his mother had brought along from her old life, a book of poems by Lord Byron. Alfred left the window open, so that he could feel the cool night air after a long day of working.

Halfway through a poem Alfred heard some commotion outside. He frowned and put the book down, marking his place, and picked up his shotgun. What was going on out there? Alfred grabbed a lamp, lit it, and then ventured outside.

From his porch he saw someone running towards his barn, the person looked frantic and no wonder, there were people behind him. Alfred couldn't see how many there were but he could definitely hear them and that they were on horses. It was amazing that they had not caught up to the first person. Alfred wondered if it was an outlaw and that was Sherriff Dune and Deputy Collins, but as he listened to their shouts he could tell that neither of the men sounded like Sherriff Dune or Deputy Collins.

The first person had disappeared into the shadow of the barn and Alfred could hear the person trying to get into the barn. Alfred's heart began to race; should he intervene, he wondered. He pa would have, but he was only a seventeen year old and from the shouting voices from the approaching men, they sounded like a nasty bunch. Still, Alfred could not abandon someone who could be in need. Taking a large breath Alfred ran over to the barn hoping that he could sneak the other person into his barn if they were quick. So being as stealthy as he could, Alfred snuck over to the barn, hoping that the three who were approaching

"Bloody hell, why won't you open," Alfred heard a man grumble in an odd accent as he approached the barn.

"Hey," Alfred said as he got close.

The person, a man who looked maybe in his mid twenties jumped at Alfred's voice. It was too dark to make out what the other man looked like, but Alfred could tell that he was impeccably dressed.

"Move aside and I can get you in."

The person paused; he did not seem willing to trust Alfred but then moved aside. It seemed that whoever was chasing him were scarier than some teenager, though Alfred did have a shotgun.

Once Alfred got the barn unlocked he grabbed the strangers hand and though he felt him cringe he pulled him into the dark barn. Luckily Alfred had been in the barn so much that he did not need light to navigate his way. He stopped in front of one of the empty horse stalls and opened it gently shoving the stranger inside where there was musty hay.

"Hide in there," he whispered.

"I will not," the person said snobbishly. "I, sir, am a proper British gentleman and will not cover myself in moldy hay."

"If you want to live you will. Whoever if chasing you is getting closer," Alfred argued. He had never met a foreigner before, but now was not the time to marvel at the meeting, or be offended by the arrogance the stranger seemed to be regarding himself with.

"Very well," the foreigner grumbled. "But once they're gone let me know. I don't want to have to sleep in such dismal conditions."

Alfred gave a frustrated sigh. "I will do my best," he promised and then shut the stall door. He could hear the foreigner grumbling about the hay, but ignored him.

When he got outside the pursuers were just approaching his barn. There were three of them and they were big men, but Alfred simply pretended that there was nothing wrong. The three stopped in front of him, the biggest one glaring at him; at least Alfred thought he was, it was too dark to be sure.

"Howdy there boy," the smallest one said, his voice sounding surprisingly civilized.

"Howdy," Alfred said.

"What are you doing out so late?"

"I thought I heard something trying to get my barn so I came to check."

"Find anything?" one of the others asked, his voice reminding Alfred of rotten apples in molasses.

"No sir. My barn is still locked up tight; must've been a fox."

There was a paused and Alfred hoped that they didn't suggest checking the barn because they might find the foreigner and then know that he was lying.

"Did you see anyone?"

"No sir. If it had been someone he must have ran off, but it sounded more like a fox."

"I see." The smaller one, he seemed to be the one in charge, turned to his compadres. "He might've taken the path into the town," he said in a low voice, but Alfred could still catch the words. He wondered why these guys were after the foreigner. The leader turned back to Alfred. "If you see a foreign guy around could you let us know? Just go to the Red Stocking in Springfield a couple of miles over. He stole something from me and my brothers and we would appreciate getting what he took back."

"Yes sir, um what did he take?"

"A family heirloom," the man said, but Alfred could tell that he was lying. It was something Alfred had picked up from his Ma.

"I'll be sure to let you know if I see your foreigner," Alfred said.

The man seemed to be staring intently at Alfred but then he gave a nod of his hat and then him and his buddies rode off. Once they were gone Alfred let out a sigh of relief and went into the barn to retrieve the foreigner. He would bring him inside, get himself to eat and then demand to know what was going on.

A/N: please review


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I will try to update every week because I will have the chapters written before it goes up so I don't slack like I did with my long Drarry fanfic….and if I slack feel free to scold me for it. So on to chapter two! *bows* please enjoy.

Alfred should be tired, it was probably nearing ten o'clock but he was too distracted to check or care, even though he would have to get up at dawn to begin work. The reason for his indifference to the time was the man who sat across him at his dinner table, eating a piece of cake and drinking a mug of milk, a scornful look on his face. It ruined what Alfred considered a handsome face. The foreigner had big green eyes and blonde hair that was probably lighter than Alfred's when washed, though he had abnormally bushy eyebrows, something Alfred had to bite his tongue not to giggle at.

The foreigner, who Alfred had just saved from some scary looking men, had wasted no time in complaining about having to hide in musty hay and then when Alfred had taken him inside he had acted like Alfred had killed babies when he said that he didn't have any tea. Still Alfred was polite like his Ma had raised him and got the foreigner a piece of cake that Widow Fowler had given Alfred earlier that week and some milk. Now Alfred was trying to find out who he was and why he was being chased.

"So," Alfred ventured after half the piece of cake was gone. "Why were you being chased by those men?"

The foreigner looked up from the cake, frowning. He swallowed his mouthful and then patted the corners of his mouth with the napkin Alfred had given him. It was apparent that this was a real live gentleman.

"I escaped."

"From?"

"From those men," the Englishman said in an obvious tone.

"But why?"

"Because they had kidnapped me."

"Why?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I just saved you," Alfred pointed out.

"Hmm," his guest grumbled, but he seemed to accept this reason. "I don't really know. All I remember was going to my uncle, Duke of Wittenberg's for tea when some ruffians grabbed me from behind and brought me here. Next thing I know I am in some dark room in the middle of nowhere."

"This isn't the middle of nowhere. This is Darcy, Colorado."

"Great I'm in America. Like I said; middle of bloody nowhere."

Alfred wondered why this guy was so hoity-toity, though maybe it was because he was a foreigner. He had heard School Master Garnish mention that foreigners, especially Europeans, thought themselves superior to Americans. Though Alfred never really trusted School Master Garnish's opinion, he was a rather close minded person; he was beginning to think not all of what he said was untrue.

"Do you have any idea why you were brought here?"

"No," the foreigner grumbled. "I can think of no one who would want me out of the way or taken to such a godforsaken spit of land."

"Hey America is a great nation!" Alfred said. He could take arrogance, but he could not take some snooty foreigner insulting his great nation.

"You're the product of plebeians who had no sense of loyalty."

"Just because we won doesn't mean you have to be so rude," Alfred snapped. The Brit's face had gone red and Alfred realized he might have gone too far, but he also found that he wasn't very sorry. If this person was indeed a gentleman he shouldn't have been so rude in the first place.

"I am leaving. Thank you for your hospitality," the Brit said coolly.

That sobered Alfred's temper. "Wait you can't go. What if those guys are still looking for you?" Alfred said standing up and blocking his guests' way out.

"I don't care I can take care of myself."

"Just stay here for one night," Alfred said. "Please, I can take you to town in the morning after my chores." He really shouldn't since he needed to work on the field, but he was raised better than to let someone in danger go wandering around at night.

The British man gave Alfred a frown and sniffed. "Very well, but I will be leaving in the morning."

"Right, right," Alfred agreed.

"Well then lead me to my room."

Alfred blinked. "Room?"

"You do have a bed for me to sleep on, yes?"

Alfred blushed. He actually hadn't thought about that. His parent's bed was of course free, but he hadn't even gone in his parent's room since they had died. He would have to let him have his room. "Of course," he said.

Alfred led his guest to his own room, opening up the door for him politely. He lit a lamp so that the Brit could look around. "It will do."

"I'm glad," Alfred said with a smile. The foreigner gave him an odd glance.

"By the way, what is your name?"

"My name?" Alfred repeated confused but then blushed at the raise of those freaky big eyebrows. "I'm Alfred. Alfred Jones, at your service," he said with a clumsy attempt at a bow.

"Not a remarkable name but I am in America," the foreigner said, but Alfred let it go. "Well it is nice to meet you Alfred Jones. I am Sir Arthur Kirkland of his Majesty's royal court."

"Uh nice to meet you too," Alfred said.

"Yes well goodnight," Arthur said and then shut the door in Alfred's face. Alfred sighed, but he had on a small smile. Despite Arthur's pompous attitude he somehow knew that the Englishman was thankful that he had saved him.

XXXXXXXX

Arthur glared up at the ceiling feeling sad. He was stuck in America of all places and he didn't even know why. He was glad to be rid of those awful men, they stunk and had such bad manners, but even though he was somewhat safe he would rather be back at home in his own bed. Arthur had been rather scared when he had first woken up about a week ago, but now that he was out of those terrible men's hands he felt a little bit of ease. He was very lucky that Alfred Jones turned out to be such a kind person, even if he was an American.

A sigh escaped Arthur's lips as he rolled over onto his side and looked out the window by the bed at the half moon in the night's sky. He wondered if it was raining in London. He missed the rain and its soothing sound. He even found himself missing his friend and lover Francis Bonnefroy, that annoying frog, but really Arthur just missed his own home.

Still things could be worse. At least he was away from his kidnappers. Though he wasn't very sure about this Alfred Jones. He looked a good ten years younger than Arthur himself, and Arthur had not seen any sign of the boys' parents. Maybe one left the house younger in this country, still the boy seemed kind of lonely. He did put up with Arthur's holier-than-thou mood, something that was very hard to stomach according to Francis. Oh well, Arthur though pulling the quilt closer to him, he would be out of Alfred Jones' company by the afternoon if all went well.

A/N: ah Arthur thinks he can leave so easily. Nein I say nein! Anywho please review.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Firstly thank you for the reviews, they are greatly appreciated. Secondly sorry I'm a bit late in posting, I just started classes and my professors do believe in homework at any time. I'll try to get it up sooner this week though. And thirdly, yes I changed the name of the story so something less well unoriginal. Anywho please enjoy this chapter:

Alfred woke up when the rooster crowed. The sun was barely peeking over the mountains in the distance and the cool air from the night was still eager to bite at anyone's nose who had it exposed. Alfred would have preferred to stay curled up on the couch in his blanket, but he had to get ready, and so he forced himself out of bed and got ready for the day. After eating some cornbread because his stomach was growling he went outside. First he fed the chickens and collected their eggs, and then made sure that Honey had some fresh hay for her to eat before he took her out to the fields again for another long and hard day of breaking up the ground. Once she was fed he milked the cow, Loraine. Once she was all milked and then put out so that she could eat Alfred lugged the bucket of fresh milk back into the house.

Inside the kitchen the house was closed and he assumed that his guest, Arthur Kirkland, was probably still sleeping. Alfred wondered if he should wake him up since he did promise to take him in to town in the morning, but he was unsure. Arthur Kirkland seemed like the kind of man who would throw something at whoever tried to take him out of bed early but Alfred had the feeling that he would get chewed out if he let Mr. Kirkland sleep in while he got caught up in his own work.

_I'll make breakfast and then wake him up,_ Alfred decided. Food usually made people want to get up with less of a fuss. Alfred knew this first hand, the smell of bacon and eggs had never failed to get him out of bed when his Ma and Pa were still alive.

After putting the milk into the glass jug Alfred went into the cooler behind the house and grabbed some slabs of bacon. Back inside he lit the stove and then put the skillet on top of the fire. He had not made himself anything beyond basic meals since his parents had passed, but he figured that Mr. Kirkland would probably appreciate it if Alfred fed him something more than cold cornbread and some strawberries.

So whistling a tune Alfred's granddaddy loved to play on the fiddle when still alive, Alfred set to making breakfast just like he had seen his mother do so many times when she was still alive.

XXXXXXXXX

Arthur was dreaming that he was back in London, dancing in the rain, something he would never do in real life. He was happy as the cold water hit his skin but then everything went dark and dry. It felt like someone had covered him with a burlap sack. He tried to kick his way out, but he was already all the way inside. Claustrophobia began to eat away at his mind as he tried to scream for his, but of course his screams went unheard. He could hear some muffled laughter from outside of the burlap sack and he desperately tried to get out of the sack. As he struggled the faint aroma of bacon and eggs reached him

He paused, where was that smell coming from? He let his subconscious follow the smell and found himself in his consciousness. It was light and he was warm, but he did not feel like he was in his own bed. Not to mention Francis would cook something like bacon and eggs. Arthur let out a groggy noise and opened his eyes. He was not at home. It took a while, but his mind soon became up-to-date with what had gone on in the past week, but that did not stop him from scowling. He was in some American's house, a kid no less, and had no idea how to get back home.

Arthur sat up and rubbed his eyes, glaring at the rising sun beyond the window in the room. He needed to leave this godforsaken country and get back home, but there was one big problem, he had no money. Normally Sir Arthur Kirkland always had some money on him, but yesterday as he was escaping his captors he had discovered that whatever money he had had on the day he had been kidnapped had been taken. So what now? He had too much pride to beg money from anyone. It looked like he would have to find a job somewhere.

The Brit groaned and lay back in the bed, feeling a headache coming on. He was so angry. If he ever got his hands on the person who had brought him to this damned place he would shot them dead, right then and there. Well he would first have to challenge them to a duel like a proper gentleman. Arthur frowned, did Americans even duel, he wondered. He doubted that any of them were proper gentlemen so maybe dueling did not exist here and people just shot each other without any proper etiquette.

Before Arthur could pursue this train of thought any further the smell of breakfast had become too heavy in the room that his stomach began making very upset noises, letting Arthur know that it demanded to be fed and be damned his will. Arthur sighed; food was food and the food that the American was making smelt so delicious. So the unhappy gentleman got out of the bed. He paused by the mirror first and straightened his clothes and hair before leaving the room because while he was not as vain as a certain Frenchman that he knew, he still had pride and it just would not do for some American to think that _he _was sloppy.

XXXXXX

When his guest had eventually come into the kitchen Alfred had breakfast already laid out. He knew that it probably didn't taste as goo0d as his Ma's, but he hoped that the Brit would like it just the same.

"Good morning!" Alfred greeted Arthur cheerfully.

"Morning," Arthur grumbled, at least that's what Alfred assumed had come from the foreigner's mouth. His guest looked grumpy but it did nothing to affect Alfred's mood, he was glad to have someone in the house for once, even if it was a grumpy snob who would probably be leaving soon.

"So," Alfred began after they were halfway through their meal. "I was thinking after breakfast I can take you into town and get drop you off at the carriage station so that you can buy your ticket and be on your way."

He expected to be met with gratitude but his guests' mood just got darker. Alfred frowned as he watched Arthur eat his food sullenly.

"Um Arthur?"

"It's Sir Arthur to you," his guest snapped. "And that would be fine except that I don't have any money. Those pricks who jumped me took it all."

"Oh." Alfred pursued his lips together, trying to think of a resolution for the Englishman. Then his face broke out into a grin. "I know! You can help me with getting the seeds in the ground before autumn comes, plus other odds and ends around the barn! I have enough from my last harvest to pay you 30 cents a day and within two months you will be able to leave!"

"Two months?" Arthur blanched. "Isn't there any other way for me to get out of this godforsaken country quicker?"

Alfred frowned at the insult to him homeland, but he could see that Arthur was obviously distressed so he didn't say anything about it. Any other time though he would have put the foreigner in his place.

"I suppose we can go into town and check to see if there any jobs there. I don't go into town much save Sunday's for church but who knows, there could be something," Alfred suggested. "Though if you stay here I won't charge you for room and board."

Arthur frowned. Obviously staying with Alfred was the best plan, that way he wouldn't have to waste some of his pay on a room and food. Alfred watched him deliberate this, his heart pounding a little quickly from hope. He had been so alone since Ma and Pa passed away and so having someone else to live with, even if only for a little while would be nice. Plus Alfred was sure that in time Arthur's sour mood would lessen, that or he'd be too tired from work to complain.

Arthur sighed. "I would prefer to look in town," he said.

Alfred's heart sunk a little. He wondered why Arthur seemed so against staying with him, but he knew that he couldn't force his guest to stay. "Alright I'll get Honey, my horse, hitched to the cart and then we'll go into town."

"Though," Arthur said as Alfred made to collect their plates. The Brit was looking away from his host as if what he wanted to say caused him much embarrassment. "If I can't find anything I would like to work for you. Though I must warn you I'm bloody awful at manual labor."

Alfred smiled and staked Arthur's food-free plate on top of his. "That's fine, you'll get used to it after about a week and besides I know you'll do well."

Arthur looked at the young man to see him smiling earnestly but then quickly looked away again. Why was this American brat so happy that he might stay here?

A/N: Please review, it makes me happy and pushes me to write more for you!


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